


The Mushroom King (Halloween 2017 fic)

by Kissa



Category: Marvel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 20:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: There’s a Romanian ballad about a mushroom king who falls in love with a mortal woman. And I am putting my little twist on it.





	The Mushroom King (Halloween 2017 fic)

**Author's Note:**

> The tale of King Crypto, the mushroom king
> 
> It talks about King Crypto of the mushroom kingdom, who is being gossiped about by his subjects because, while he can make everything else blossom and grow, he himself remains barren and without offspring.
> 
> One day a reindeer herder called Enigel stops in his forest and falls asleep.
> 
> Crypto takes on a human form and appears in her dreams, asking her to join him in his kingdom and be his wife. He gives her a spell that would help her join him in his world.
> 
> She refuses, because while the temptation of love is strong, she needs to finish her voyage to the pastures with her reindeer. If she accepts, she would lose her human form and be a mushroom by Crypto’s side.
> 
> Crypto’s spell turns on him and he goes insane, turning into a poisonous mushroom, whom only the black henbane will have as a husband. The black henbane makes Crypto stand naked on the side of the road and he gets trampled by Enigel’s reindeer.

_By the gods, is Chris Evans pale - even paler from up close._

Cara chided herself for her shallow thoughts. Chris was an angel to work with. Gentle, funny, polite and good no matter what the day threw at him.   
  
But, being a photographer, she couldn’t stop marveling how much younger Chris looked at night or on rainy days. It was as if he was rejuvenated by the mere absence of direct sunlight. 

“Mmm I know he’s a catch, that one, but I don’t like him. Stay away from him, child,” her grandmother warned, when Cara sent her a picture from the set. “Are you wearing the pendant I gave you?”   
  
“Yes, nonna. I am. I keep getting compliments for it at work.”   
  
“As you should. Never take it off, mind you. I’ll know if you do.”   
  
“Can I still clean it? Silver does blacken in time.”  
  
“Cleaning is fine. Never leave home without the pendant.” The granny further instructed.   
  
The two months she and Chris had before them were going to be spent doing a massive promo package for a new client Chris had lent his image and name to.   
  
She is quiet and focused, not wanting to bother the actor more than she has to. Sure, he’s paid to be there, and royally so, but he shouldn’t be treated like a new insect to be pinned to a styrofoam wall and looked at under a magnifying glass.   
  
“Cara… are you Italian? Your name sounds Italian.” Chris asks one day. He’s had his makeup taken off and changed his clothes, from the high end Tom Ford suit into the tracksuit he came in.   
  
Cara tries not to look at him, because she knows she would blush if she did.   
  
And he knows it too. She can sense it in the suddenly electrically charged air around them.  
  
Outside it’s raining and Chris looks amazing. And now that he got closer, she can tell he smells good too. So fetching… of ferns and Sumatran raindrops on monoï petals, wild strawberries growing over untouched snow, freshly dug soil and wheat fields in summer.   
  
Cara shakes herself back to the present moment.   
  
“I’ve got some Italian in me. Half. The other half is Irish.” She says.

He steps closer to the desk she is sitting at, leaning over a massive Cintiq.   
  
Soon his crotch is touching the outer edge of the desk and she raises his eyes to look at him. He’s staying over the time required by his contract.   
  
Which is why her defenses go up.

“We’re the same halves. My ma’s Italian, dad irish. How ‘bout you?”  
  
“Other way round.” Cara says.   
  
“Matchy matchy. Like the squares of a Battenberg cake.” He says with a smile and rounds the desk, coming to peep over her shoulder at what she’s doing. He leans in, close to her, his chin only centimeters above her shoulder. Cara can feel his breath on the bare skin of her neck.   
  
“Mmm, that looks good. Better than reality. But am I really that white?” He asks, looking at the colour adjustments she did to one of the photos.   
  
“Yes. Yes you are.”   
  
“Isn’t that unnatural? I don’t wanna look like a newborn mouse in these pics. I got a reputation to defend.”

“You have really white skin. Own it.” She said. “Besides, you bring the face, I bring the art skills.”  
  
“O-kaaaayyyy… boundary noted.” Chris said, pulling back a bit. “Is that Flora by Gucci?” He asked.   
  
“Did you just sniff me?” Cara asked. “I have a strict no sniffing rule with non-canine or -feline clients.”

“I couldn’t help but pick it up. I didn’t mean to be a creep.”   
  
“It’s Parlez-Moi d’Amour by Galliano,” she said. A relatively cheap, but very sophisticated all-plant fragrance that evoked an instant feeling of lightness in her whenever she put it on. “And I like that you’re pale.”

“This looks really good,” Chris said, looking at the spread she was editing. “You been doing this for long?”

“Not really. I used to teach sociology at university.”  
  
“At Boston?”   
  
“No, I couldn’t afford to go to uni here. I went to Europe.”  
  
“Why the sudden, massive change of course?”   
  
“Social science shows you how grim and despicable humanity is, in whole and in parts. All the dark, perverse ways we all justify hurting one another to get what we want. It made me bitter and depressed. So I decided to try my hand at art. Get to see the brighter aspects of people and Photoshop the darker ones.”   
  
Mercifully, Chris stopped questioning her that evening.   
  
***  
  
A few evenings later, Cara was out with friends in a club, drinking colourful drinks and singing along to radio hits loudly.   
  
She saw Chris in the club, with his own posse, and in the darkness of the club his white skin stood out like a glowing beacon. Everytime she looked his way, he was watching her.   
  
He didn’t come over or say hi or even nod his head. At some point, Cara asked a friend to drive her home.   
  
The next day, while she was photographing him, she stopped to ask.  
  
“What was that in the club all about?”   
  
He smiled.   
  
“I was just surprised you go to clubs, making it rain on strippers and partying like that. You strike me as a very classy lady.”   
  
“I am a classy lady who enjoys pole dancers and the club atmosphere. The two are only exclusive of each other in your head.”

“Touché.” He said. “Why do you think that is?”

“Because you’re a self-made middle class American who was born with considerable privilege so meritocracy is a valid way of seeing the world?” Cara said.

Chris laughed and laughed, his hand reflexively resting on his left pec.  
  
“That… could be it.” He said, trying to calm down enough to be intelligible.   
  
****  
  
Cara was busy for the next weekend, to start arranging her things in her new little house. It was a sad, grey thing, with a patch of garden where nothing grew and not even spiders built their webs there.   
  
She cleaned the hous, and painted the walls while the men from the utilities connected her house to the water and sewer mains and an engineer from the photovoltaic renting firm came round to get her solar panels up and running.   
This would be her home for the time being, it wasn’t much, but it didn’t have to be. She hadn’t felt like she could grow roots anywhere before. At least here she was close to the part of her family who loved her.  
  
On Monday, she woke up feeling strangely refreshed, although she had slept on the bare floor, with only a rolled out futon as her only bedding.   
  
She showered and drove to the local IKEA to buy some furniture. And one potted plant. Who didn’t like her home at all and started to wilt the very next day.  

The house still needed a lot of things, but she had the immediate necessities covered: a kitchen to cook in, a working bathroom, heating, power, and a great big pile of boxes for her clothes and other personal items.   
  
The unpacked rest of her life would have to wai,t because on Tuesday it was time to go back to work.   
  
***  
  
Luckily the next few days would be a location shoot taking place in the forest not far from where she lived.   
  
Instead of taking her car, she wore high boots and a rainproof coat with a hood.   
  
On a break from shooting and when Chris decided he needed to stretch his limbs before getting into the next outfit, he invited her for a walk in the woods.   
  
Soon it started to rain, not much, but just enough to make anyone else want to rush inside. Chris, however, had no problem being outside in the rain and the water seemed to visibly improve his look. He was animatedly showing Cara everything awesome about the woods.   
  
“Nowhere is the fall more beautiful than here. Look at the colours,” he said, “take in the scents of the forest… somewhere, someone is burning dead leaves and wood outside, and resin, and petrichor…”   
  
Cara found herself smiling. Yes, she was automatically more careful around men like him, who tended to be extra entitled and often predatory, but right now Chris was being a massive puppy.   
  
It seemed the walk in the woods was just what he needed. He looked ten years younger by the time they got back.   
  
***  
  
When they were nearing the end of the massive workload, the crew gave Cara a surprise housewarming party. Chris was present and overheard the makeup artist saying it’s super convenient that the set is practically just up the road from where Cara lives.

The day after the party, early in the morning, Cara woke up to a soft knock on her door.   
  
When she opened, confused as to who it might be since it was too early for the postman, she saw Chris standing in her doorway, wearing a tracksuit. He had his dog with him too and a bottle of wine.   
  
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He asked, once they greeted and began chatting in the doorway for a while.   
  
Cara apologised, looking sheepish, and let him into her newly finished home. 

“Since it’s too early for wine, care to join me for coffee on my deck? It’s a bit sad and bare for now, but at least there’s sunlight.” She said, leading the way and showing Chris to the deck and the garden, leaving him alone for a moment to get cups.   
  
“You’ve got a really cute house here. Although it’s missing some life.” Chris said.   
  
“All in due time,” Cara said, by now questioning everything, from her instincts about the man to the things her nonna had said and what she had learnt on her own. That was a hurtful observation and if it had been anyone else in his stead, she would have minded. It was not a good thing to admit to.   
  
Chris Evans was a weird and awkward man. Not a threat in the least, because he understood boundaries. And besides, Cara knew she had nothing to fear from him. She had her own reasons for being so certain.   
  
They talked well over coffee and two refills and eventually Chris left. They would see each other the next day, at work.

When Cara walked through her living room the next time, something caught her eye. Her house plant, Henry, lived again, tall and bright green on the window sill. He hadn’t looked this good in the store and he’d gotten abruptly much worse each day since then.   
  
And, in the big decorative mirror on the wall, she caught a glimpse of her old silver pendant, that now looked all sooty.  
  
She decided to put it into the cleaning device for the night, before running herself a bath and snuggling into bed really early for her standards.

That night, Chris came to her in her dreams. This was an even playing field, so Cara dived right in.   
  
***  
  
Chris brought her to his own house, on the other side of town. It was a big, luxurious home with a lush, landscaped garden and the forest as a backdrop. The place itself was brightly lit and in light, natural tones, with off-white walls and dark brown windows and doors.   
  
“Come in, don’t be shy. I’ve been to your house,” he said, pulling her inside by the hand.   
  
She stopped to take off her shoes and socks, wanting to feel the many textures of his floors under her feet. The house seemed alive somehow, and connected to Chris.   
  
He brought them drinks and they sat on his soft, plush sofa, on a cover that felt like thick moss and smelled like Chris’ fragrance.  
  
Their hands met on the bottle of whisky when they both went for it, to refill their glasses, and that was the touch that ignited it all.   
  
Soon, Cara was sinking into the mossy couch cover, with one of Chris’ hands cradling her head and the rest of him on top and around her.   
  
He kissed like a summer storm, confident and demanding. His lips were soft and warm, tasting of the caramel and apricot notes of the whisky and something else that was just Chris.   
  
Cara let herself be swept away, her hands going under his shirt and touching the cool skin underneath, pulling the garment off carefully and flinging it onto a chair a bit further from the sofa. She then opened his trousers and slipped her hands into his boxers, at the back, her fingers splaying on his ass and squeezing briefly before she slid the boxers and the trousers down and off.   
  
Chris purred at being undressed so impatiently by her and focused his attention on taking off her top and bra, his lips rushing to map the newly exposed skin.   
  
Cara loved how he didn’t go in for the obvious spots right away and she lay back with her eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the soft drag of his lips over the thinly stretched skin on her collarbones, and lower, across her sternum, where foreign touches seldom ever landed. 

It was only when she squirmed impatiently that Chris moved his attentions to her breasts. His hands cradled them and softly kneaded before he wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked, running his tongue over the tip, which hardened as his fingers worked on the other one.   
  
His free hand slid into her open trousers, past her panties and her  _mons_. His fingertips only barely grazed her clit, eliciting a pleading moan from Cara, who rocked her hips and tried to curl into his touch, to get his fingers where she wanted him the most.  
  
When he finally decided to give her what she needed, Chris first got comfortable, reclining next to her, which gave Cara the space to lose the rest of her clothes.   
  
Once Chris discreetly got rid of his socks and they were both naked, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply, effectively wiping her mind. Propped on one arm, he was able to let his lips wander from her mouth to her breasts while his palm rested on her mound and his fingers gently, slowly slipped between her labia and curled slightly, the tips barely entering her. His thumb was rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her clit.   
  
Cara raised a leg and settled it on top of Chris’, opening herself up more to his touches and sinking into the sensations with a pleased moan. She could feel his hard cock pressed against her thigh, leaving a wet trail on her skin and it added to how good the whole moment felt.   
  
She and Chris locked eyes and didn’t look away for as long as what they were doing allowed them. She watched him switch his attention to her other breast and suck sharply on her nipple even as she felt it and the pleasure it caused spread all through her.   
  
Cara’s breaths were rushed and shallow now and soon she felt all control leaving her as Chris pulled one of the longest and deepest orgasms she’d ever had from her, watching her all through it and leaning down to kiss her when she was slowly starting to come down.   
  
As soon as she could move again, she pushed him onto his back and straddled him, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking it a few times before lowering herself onto it.   
  
They both groaned and intertwined their hands, squeezing each other and pausing to enjoy the way their bodies felt connected like that.   
  
Cara moved before Chris could plead, her walls stroking his cock on every up and down motion and squeezing around him when she was fully seated in his lap. She freed her hands and rested them on his chest before she began caressing him, raking her fingers through his chest hair, rolling her thumbs over his nipples and pinching, watching delightedly as the blood rushing to them made them harden and darken slightly in colour.   
  
Her persistence had Chris squirming under her and cursing under his breath, now and then asking her not to stop.   
  
She soon found a rhythm on top of him that had him lose coherence as it brought him to the edge pretty soon.   
  
His hands went up to her breasts, kneading gently and pinching at the nipples, mirroring what she was doing to him, but soon he was clutching and pulling at the sofa cover, arching up into her and coming with a long, low groan.   
  
Cara responded with a low, pleased sound of her own as her walls clenched down on him, holding his cock in place until he was all spent.

She allowed them only a few moments of catching their breath before she nudged him.   
  
“Bed now?” She said, but it sounded more like a demand than a question.   
  
He got up and held out his hand for her to take, showing her into his bedroom. Once they were near the bed, she pushed him backwards onto the mattress, kneeling between his spread legs.   
  
“My turn.”

***  
  
The next Monday, Chris was late for the photo shoot, which was a first.   
  
Cara herself was having quite a good day and she was humming a little song to herself while setting up the lights and the camera for a tethered shooting.   
  
When Chris arrived, he was distracted and looked like he hadn’t slept well. The girls in make-up had to work miracles with the concealer.   
  
They still got a lot of work done and in the evening, Cara went to see her nonna.   
  
The first thing the old lady said to her, as soon as she was through the door, was, “where’s your pendant?”   
  
“I’m cleaning it. It blackened.”

The old woman whispered a “No” and crossed herself.   
  
“This man you are working with…” She asked. “Did he come by your house?”   
  
“Yes, but he was a gentleman, we had coffee on the deck and he left.”   
  
“How’s your garden? Still bare soil?” The nonna was relentless in her questioning.   
  
“No, that’s actually kind of weird and what I came here to mention… There’s grass and ferns, flowers and mushrooms growing everywhere. Even my dying houseplant is doing well now.”

“Dear Lord.”  
  
“What? Chris is a client? You don’t even know him, why are you so against him?” Cara said, for now quite amused by her nan’s distress.   
  
“BECAUSE! Let me show you!” The old lady said and went to the library, pushing a shelf aside, and opening a secret compartment in the wall. From there, she took out a book, encased in a metal cover and locked shut.   
  
With a key she took from one of her many drawers, Cara’s nan opened the book and showed her granddaughter the tale of the mushroom king.   
  
“There is one each generation, and he’s looking for a human wife! The mushroom king always comes to tempt a woman from our family! And the ones who do fall for his ruse end up like him - able to control nature and draw strength from it, giving life to everything around them but to their own children!”

“That’s not the most gruesome fate to have, nonna.” Cara said, for now not questioning the validity of the tale.

“Do you want to be sickly and pale like him, always having to be in the shadows, never seeing the sun because its light makes you wither? Remaining the same until the day you die while everyone else around you has children and gets to watch them grow?”  
  
“Well, it’s really not that bad, if a little Goth… but I don’t mind that.”   
  
“You should go and put your pendant back on as soon as possible! Before he can get to you for real.”   
  
“What do you mean? He really doesn’t mean me any harm.”   
  
“If I hadn’t turned down the mushroom king in my time, I would have never had your father or his sister! You would not be here.”   
  
Cara’s features became distorted and she almost smiled before settling on a grin, where the corners of her mouth lifted and her lips pressed in on each other, becoming thinner.   
  
“Nonna, thank you for the warning. But Chris has already come for me - _in more ways than one_  - in my dreams, and if that is the demo version, I look forward to the actual performance. I’ll be fine.”  
  
She turned on her heels and left. 

***  
  
When she got home, Chris was waiting for her on the stone edge of the fence surrounding her property.   
  
“Hey. I needed to talk to you. I know it’s late.”  
  
“That’s alright. Wanna come in?”   
  
“I’d love to, but there’s no time. I wanted to ask you something.”  
  
“I’m all ears.”   
  
“There’s this party I’m invited to and I’m expected to hook up with the hostess.” Chris started. “She’s not someone I can easily dodge or avoid. My friends and family all know and like her. But I would rather… not hook up with her. And I was wondering if you’d come with me to the party as my date. Call it a solid favour; ask for anything.”   
  
“Deal.” Cara said, biting her lips and smiling. “Seal it.”

Chris knew what she meant right away and leaned in, kissing her deeply. As a long time lover would.   
  
“I’ll send my stylist round with clothes and accessories.” He said, disappearing into the woods, whistling until the darkness swallowed him.

Cara went inside and poured herself a glass of wine. Beyond her kitchen French window, her garden was threatening to come inside, brimming with life. Cara took off her shoes and stepped barefoot outside in the garden, picking a few berries and eating them, dreaming of the time she’d have his hands on her again, this time for real.

***

The next evening, when Chris came to pick her up, he did have time to come inside for a few minutes.   
  
His stylist had chosen a red sequin mini dress for Cara, with black Louboutins and a Gucci clutch.   
  
Chris gasped when he saw Cara and she stood in front of her wardrobe mirror, facing away from him.  
  
“Be a sweetheart and zip me up, please.” She said.   
  
As he walked up to her, she sensed he was crestfallen. The air around him was cold and heavy with static.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.   
  
He rested his hands on her waist, sighing as he looked into her eyes in the mirror before them.   
  
“Today was an important day for me. And something went wrong. I’m still gonna have to get into bed with the woman I told you about.”   
  
Cara smiled, almost imperceptibly.   
  
“I know what went wrong, Mushroom King.” She whispered. “All these efforts to woo me and somehow you’re still the same. Still the pale fern whisperer.”

He gasped and stepped back.   
  
Cara reached out to him, pulling him to stand close to the mirror.   
  
“Fear not. You did nothing wrong. Your magic worked as predicted, down to one detail. I’m from the right family. I abandoned my protection and let you in. But one thing no one knows, not even my dear old nonna… is that my mother bought me at a crossroads on a windy night, from a woman wrapped in dark veils, and she took the secret to her grave.”  
  
“You… you’re adopted.” Chris croaked, in disbelief.   
  
Cara wrapped her arms around Chris from behind and kissed his neck, right above the white collar of his shirt.   
  
When she looked back to him, in the mirror, Chris saw her eyes were completely shiny black, like two obsidian chiseled stones.

“I’m a demon of the Underworld and we have a deal. I own your soul.”

Chris was terrified. Not even knowing what this meant.   
  
“It means I’ll still be your date for the party and you still don’t have to hook up with anyone you don’t want.”  
  
“And… does… does that mean…?” He asked, fearful and in disbelief still.   
  
“You’ll be a mortal man. But we’re adopting.”   
  
Chris began to cry. He had been trying to fight back the tears since her reveal.

“Win some, lose some. I can live with it.” He said, sighing in relief and watching as her hand came up to dry his eyes.  He looked at himself in the mirror, resting his cheek in one of her palms.  
  
“Do you think they’ll notice us being a bit late?” He asked, turning towards her and making to dramatically tear off her dress.   
  
“Whoa there… this is a hand-sewn Zuhair Murad and your stylist signed for it. If you ruin it, she’ll pay for it out of pocket. Now I may be a demon, but I’m not a peasant. Make an effort and undress me nicely.”   
  
Chris started to laugh, not stopping even once he leaned in to kiss her.


End file.
